


Crying Out To Be Relieved

by Ningikuga



Category: Atop the Fourth Wall, That Guy with the Glasses/Channel Awesome, The Spoony Experiment
Genre: Bondage, Identity Issues, M/M, Multi, Other, Possession or Possibly Just Dissociative Identity Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:38:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ningikuga/pseuds/Ningikuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Kickassia continuity)  Spoony's about to have an Insano episode, so in desperation he submits himself to Insano's archnemesis.  Linkara's nonplussed, but he decides to be good, giving, and game for his friend - and, if it comes to that, his enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crying Out To Be Relieved

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [this prompt](http://tgwtg-meme.livejournal.com/1329.html?thread=27697) on the LJ TGWTG kinkmeme that just kept getting longer and longer. Takes place after _Kickassia_ but before the events of the "Silent Hill: Dead/Alive" reviews; see the endnotes for a discussion of the continuity tangle (thank Doug for the Plot Hole).
> 
> This work is intended to depict the characters/personae, not real people, and absolutely no implications about the people who write and play those characters are intended or should be inferred.

The heavy knock on the door echoed off the shelves and windows. Linkara shot an irritated glance at Pollo, who shook his head and stopped the camera. “It’s always right as I’m getting to the good part,” Linkara grumbled as he set down the comic. “Is it the insurance guy again?”

“Checking,” Pollo replied; a wall panel blinked as Pollo’s wireless connection interfaced with the security system. “Linkara, I think you’d better go see for yourself. It appears to be one of your collaborators.”

The door thundered as Linkara padded down the short hallway and rounded the edge of the kitchen. Peering through the peephole, he could make out a thin, dark-haired figure in a thin t-shirt and threadbare jeans, definitely underdressed for Minnesota in autumn.

“Spoony?” Linkara unlatched the door and turned the deadbolt. “Spoony, what are you doing here? How did you know my new address? And why didn’t you call first?”

“Because then you’d know I was coming,” Spoony said distractedly; his glazed eyes were focused somewhere a thousand feet past Linkara, his voice high and scratchy. A crumpled scrap of paper fell out of his hand and rolled into the corner.

Linkara put his hands on Spoony’s shoulders, gently urging him to stand up straighter and look him in the eye. “Why didn’t you want me to know you were coming?” he asked, speaking low and slowly, hoping the combination of touch and reassurance would soothe Spoony’s obviously frazzled nerves.

Spoony blinked, then rubbed a hand across his eyes. “I did want you to know,” he said, his voice rough but stronger. “But - _he_ \- he wouldn’t let me tell you.”

Linkara blinked at him. “Who wouldn’t let you?”

“Oh, c’mon, Linkara!” Spoony shouted. “After Molossia, you can’t pretend you don’t fucking know now!” His hands closed around Linkara’s wrists, but he didn’t push them from his shoulders; he seemed to be clinging to him instead, hanging on desperately.

“You mean Insano?” Linkara shifted his grip on Spoony and tugged him inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. “I’m still not sure I understand that, honestly,” he continued.

“I don’t understand it either,” Spoony groaned. “I don’t think even he understands exactly how it works. I’m not sure it _does_ work. But it still _happens_.” He shivered. “And since the debacle in Nevada, it’s been happening more and more often.”

“Here, sit down, let me get you something warm,” Linkara urged. “How did you even get here?” He led his twitching friend to the couch and guided him into the corner seat.

“I had some frequent flyer miles left after Molossia,” Spoony said, tugging the throw blanket Linkara handed him over his shoulders. “I remember buying the ticket online, and arriving at the airport, and I sort of remember landing. I don’t remember packing, and I only have vague memories of the flight itself, and I have no idea where my suitcase is, or if I packed a jacket.” He shuddered. “It’s getting harder and harder to hold him off. He keeps - breaking through, for just a moment, and then it’s me again. And it’s fucking with my head. My memory is like a Dig-Dug board.”

Linkara scuttled into the kitchen, signaling Pollo to join him. “Tea or coffee?” he called. “And do you need anything to eat?”

“I don’t think I could handle anything solid right now,” Spoony called back. “Either’s fine; I can barely taste anything anyway.”

Linkara set two mugs into the microwave and then leaned down. “Pollo,” he whispered, “I need you to handle security for a little while. This is going to take my full attention.”

Pollo bobbed his head. “It appears you have the opportunity to both care for a friend and deal with an enemy,” he noted.

“I don’t really want to think about it like that,” Linkara sighed, “but you’re not wrong. Just - hold down the fort for a bit, okay?”

“I always do,” Pollo reminded him, then headed in the direction of the storage closet.

The microwave dinged. Linkara dropped a tea bag in each mug and carried them back to the couch. Spoony had wrapped himself in the throw blanket like a cocoon; he squirmed around just enough to free his arms and took one of the mugs from Linkara. The slowly darkening liquid in the cup rippled as his hands shook.

Spoony blew on the steaming tea and took a long, ragged sip. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “I can’t remember the last time I had something to drink. I must have had something on the plane, but - I’m just too brain-fried to even guess what it was, much less remember.” He stared into the mug as if he could see the future in it, and it wasn’t pretty. “With my luck, it was cheap beer. I don’t think I had the money in my pockets for liquor.”

“That’s okay, just get something warm into your stomach now; I can get you whatever you want later,” Linkara assured him. “But - why did you come here, instead of going to Chick or to Critic?”

“What?” Spoony laughed, “You think they’d be able to care, much less help?” He sobered quickly. “Critic was seriously willing to kill him, you know, even knowing that it’d kill me too.”

“I don’t -” Linkara stopped himself; his conscience wasn’t squeaky clean on that front, either. Hopefully, Spoony didn’t remember that part. “Okay, so Critic’s out,” he agreed.

“And you’ve got superscience stuff of your own, you know, from comics and Star Trek and shit,” Spoony continued. “So I thought, maybe - maybe you could hold him off.” He gulped down two swallows as if the liquid weren’t steaming.

Linkara felt like he’d missed something important. “Wait,” he said, setting his tea on the coffee table, “what exactly do you mean by ‘hold him off’?”

Spoony’s hands flexed tighter against the half-empty mug. “He’s going to break through soon,” he whispered. “I can’t stop him forever. I don’t even know how much longer I can - can stay myself, stay me. Maybe another day. Maybe an hour. I don’t fucking know, and when I lose, I have no idea what he’ll do.” He looked directly at Linkara; his pupils were huge, despite the late afternoon light streaming through the blinds.

Linkara’s hands reached towards Spoony’s automatically. “Okay, I’ll try. But what exactly do you want me to do?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Spoony swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I need you to restrain me, before it’s him instead of me,” he confessed.

“Restrain you?” Linkara echoed. “You mean - tie you up?”

“Or chains, or cuffs, or whatever you think will keep him from going on another robot rampage,” Spoony pleaded. “I just - I can’t handle this on my own anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Linkara insisted. Something about the grief and tension in Spoony’s expression was making his gut twist up. “Okay, I’m not a hundred percent sure that’s the best idea, but right now I’m not coming up with anything better, either.” He pondered for a moment. “I’ve got a hundred feet of clothesline around here somewhere -”

Pollo drifted past on his hoverskirt and dropped a coil of cotton cording in Linkara’s lap.

“- Thanks,” Linkara finished. “Okay, so we get you tied up. Then what?”

“Then I stop fighting him,” Spoony said, relief welling up in his eyes. “Hopefully, once he figures out he’s stuck and you can keep him from just leaving to fuck shit up, he’ll give up and go away for a while.”

“So you want me to stand guard over him while he’s you, or you’re him, or - I really don’t know how to talk about that, I’m sorry - but you want me to guard him until he wears himself out and gives you back to yourself?” Linkara listened to himself and scowled. “Crap, we’re going to have to figure out some way to talk about it even if it doesn’t make sense, if we’re going to have a plan, here.”

Spoony nodded, although his mouth twisted like he’d bitten a lemon. “I don’t know if we’re two different souls, if I even really believe in souls, or if this is just a really bad case of multiple personality disorder, or what,” he allowed, “but let’s go ahead and say that there’s me, there’s Insano, and there’s the body we share. I think it’s mine; he thinks it’s his.”

“It’s yours,” Linkara insisted. “I mean, it was yours growing up, right?”

“Yes,” Spoony said, his voice rising, “but if you asked him he’d say the exact same thing. There’s my reality, and there’s his reality, and they intersect,” he gestured to indicate his whole body, “right _here_. They can’t both be true, and yet somehow we both exist, just - not at the same time.”

Linkara pursed his lips. “There’s got to be something we can do about that,” he mused. “But first things first.”

Spoony’s legs were shaking enough to vibrate the coffee table. “Please,” he begged. “I don’t think I’ve got a lot of time left before he takes over.”

“Right.” Linkara glanced around. “What should I tie you to? I don’t have, you know, eyebolts in the walls or anything like that.”

“Why not? You should,” said a higher-pitched voice from Spoony’s mouth. Spoony’s eyes went wide; he clapped his hands over his lips.

“Oh, crap,” Linkara blurted, “hold on just a little longer.”

“I’m trying,” Spoony answered from between his fingers. “What’s the sturdiest piece of furniture in the place?”

That took a moment of thinking on Linkara’s part. “Technically, it’s probably the sofa we’re on,” he said, “but there’s not really a good way to tie you to it so you couldn’t wriggle out.”

“So what’s next?” Spoony asked, carefully taking his hands away from his face and burying them in the folds of the throw blanket, working his fingers nervously along the grain of the fabric.

Linkara pondered for another minute. “The futon I do my reviews on,” he finally concluded.

“Your sanctum sanctorum?” Spoony groaned again. “Oh, he’ll hate that.”

“I don’t think we’ve got much choice,” Linkara said. He pointed towards the bathroom. “Go sponge yourself off so you’re not all sweaty and slippery, and I’ll meet you in the study.”

“Okay,” Spoony said weakly, and stumbled in that direction. Linkara kept a careful eye on him until he closed the door, then headed for the study, uncoiling the first few loops of the rope.

\---

Spoony was visibly trembling as he walked into the study, and his hair was damp around his face, but his jaw was set and his gaze was steady. “Okay, where do you want me?” he asked.

Linkara had unfastened the futon mattress from the top of the frame and folded it down to make a double-thick seat cushion, exposing the wooden slats on the back. “Right here,” he said, patting the middle of the cushion. “I need to figure out how I’m going to secure your arms, together or separate.”

“Don’t let him put his hands together,” Spoony warned as he took his seat. “If he can use both hands, he’ll figure out how to untie the knots.”

“Good to know,” Linkara mused. He knelt on the padding next to Spoony; the other reviewer had already taken off his shoes and socks, leaving bare ankles to secure. Linkara draped the bulk of the cord across the back of the futon and contemplated Spoony’s wrists, pale and so much thinner than his own.

“Before I start,” Linkara said, sitting back on his own heels, “we need to work out an instant out for you, if it’s really you and you need me to untie you for some reason. You know, a, um -”

“A safeword,” Spoony said testily. “I know what it is, and - yeah. Yeah, we do. Give me a moment.” He stared into space for a moment, his eyes focusing and unfocusing. “Can’t use green-yellow-red like normal people do,” he muttered, “He’d figure it out.”

“Normal?” Linkara chuckled. “What’s normal about this?”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Spoony warned, “you had a hundred feet of well-washed clothesline just lying around. This is not your first rodeo, no matter how much you want to look like the pasty white innocent here.”

“I didn’t say I’d never experimented before,” Linkara observed. “I just don’t think it’s reasonable to call this _normal_.” He toyed with the end of the rope in his hand. “Speaking of which, in addition to the safeword, we should probably lay down some ground rules.”

“You can do whatever you want that you genuinely think is going to calm me down, help me be in my own body, or otherwise keep me from losing my shit,” Spoony said, his voice somehow both stronger than before and more tired. “I trust you not to do any permanent damage, and this isn’t my first rodeo, either.” He paused, pursing his lips. “If I say ‘Lord British,’ ease up on whatever it is you’re doing, and if I say ‘Akalabeth,’ stop what you’re doing and untie me.”

“Akalabeth?” Linkara said, making sure he at least understood the pronunciation of the word.

“Yeah, that.” Spoony straightened up; a tremor shot through him from crown to soles. “Seriously, though, I’m just about out of juice. Please, do this before we can’t.”

“Right.” Linkara pondered the futon frame. “If I tie both your wrists to the top rail, that’s going to strain your shoulders.”

“If you just tie them handcuff-style, though, I swear he’ll figure out how to untie them,” Spoony countered. “You can’t let him put his fingers together.”

Linkara put a hand on Spoony’ shoulder and pushed him lightly. “Lean forward,” he said, making it clear that this was not a request but a command. 

Spoony snorted, but did it anyway.

“Now, put your hands behind your back and grab your forearms,” Linkara continued, gathering a coil of rope in his right hand and snipping off a six-foot length with a pair of heavy scissors. Again, Spoony did as he was told; he even seemed to relax slightly. Linkara ran the loop around Spoony’s wrists once, brought the ends through the loop in a simple lark’s-head knot, and then wrapped the doubled tails of the rope several times around his wrists, making a thick cuff around both wrists that couldn’t twist even under tension. Before tying off the bind, he asked, “How’s that? Too tight, too loose?”

Spoony shifted. “Maybe a little tighter,” he said, and his voice seemed to be coming from very far away. “I can rub that against my belt; I don’t know if he could use that to get out of the ropes or not.”

“Then let’s take that away.” Linkara pretended his own hands weren’t trembling a bit as he tightened the final knot for the wrist binding and moved to undo Spoony’s belt buckle.

Spoony’s mouth was just a little too close to Linkara’s as he murmured, “Go ahead and take off the jeans, too. I don’t know what he might be able to do with the denim.”

Linkara slipped the belt from its loops and doubled it lightly in his hand. “Who’s giving the instructions here?” he asked, trying to sound sterner than he felt.

“Until that last knot is tied, we both are,” Spoony said. “After that, who knows?” He leaned forward, and Linkara could see the tension in his neck and shoulders. “I’ll do anything you ask, don’t worry. Just - don’t make this too big a power trip, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” Linkara said, blushing. This was proving to be a more delicate balance than he’d thought, but of course Spoony was going to be protective of his own agency - that was what he was fighting for, wasn’t it? He undid Spoony’s button and fly and eased the warm, worn denim down over his ankles.

Securing those ankles seemed like the next reasonable thing to do. Linkara roughly measured two more six-foot lengths from the rope and cut them loose. He found the center of the first one and made a cat’s-paw knot, sliding both loops up over Spoony’s foot; his ankle felt like barely more than rough skin over smooth bones. He tightened the loop carefully over the ankle, then ran the tails around the lowest rail of the futon frame. “There’s a little play there,” he explained. “Is struggling going to make that too tight?”

Spoony kicked experimentally. “I don’t think so,” he said. “If he can’t break that board, I don’t think he can cut off circulation either.”

“It’s pretty solid wood,” Linkara assured him, finishing the securing knot and wrapping the cat’s-paw for the other ankle. “If he’s strong enough to break it, he can probably snap the rope, too.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I can’t,” Spoony said, seeming to relax a bit more as his second ankle was secured. “And it’s, you know, all the same muscles between us. He’s always seemed a little stronger, but I think he just knows how to use leverage better.”

Linkara clambered up from the floor to peer behind Spoony’s back again. “Okay,” he explained, “I’m going to try and immobilize your elbows by tying them directly to the frame. I’ll have to use the slats, which aren’t the strongest parts, but with your hands bound pointed in opposite directions, I think that’ll be okay.”

“Just make sure the knot ends are all on the other side of the wood,” Spoony answered.

Linkara cut two shorter lengths of cord and leaned on Spoony’s shoulder, gently pinning him against the wood with his weight. “French bowline ought to do it,” he muttered; “That’ll distribute the pressure so he shouldn’t be able to tighten it too much even if he squirms.”

“I’m not sure I can test that for you,” Spoony said weakly.

“Hang on just a little longer,” Linkara ordered. He hitched the bowline around Spoony’s other elbow and made a prussick knot on the other side of the slats. For good measure, he took the remaining long coil of rope and looped it around Spoony’s chest and the slats behind him twice, tying it off behind the slats with a simple square knot. He tossed the rest of the coil off to the side, where it wouldn’t be in the way, but he could still reach it in a hurry if he needed the rest.

Carefully, he climbed off of Spoony and inspected his handiwork. Spoony’s ankles were separated, a foot and a half apart, with his toes just barely touching the floor. His shoulders were pushed slightly forward by the bindings behind him, with the chest ropes criss-crossing his T-shirt and pinning him upright. His boxers were slightly disheveled, and his hair hung down into his eyes.

Spoony tossed his head to clear his gaze. “How do I look?” he asked.

Linkara pondered several possible responses. “Pretty good, actually,” he finally said.

“I figured I would,” Spoony replied, grinning. “Seriously, though, if I haven’t safeworded out, trust me if I ask you to do something, okay?”

“I’m thinking maybe _I_ need a safeword,” Linkara said, laughing just a bit.

“Not a bad idea,” Spoony mused. “Although I don’t think we can make him honor it. How about ‘Liefeld’?”

“Yeah, if I’m yelling his name in the throes of passion, something is dead wrong,” Linkara agreed, chuckling.

Spoony inhaled; the ropes tightened against his chest, then loosened slightly as he exhaled. “I think I’ve got a couple more minutes,” he said quietly. “Could you - I know, this sounds weird -”

“Weirder than you asking me to tie you up?” Linkara replied, incredulous.

Spoony huffed. “Could you please just touch me?” he pleaded. “Like, not necessarily below the beltline or anything if you’re not feeling it yet, just - right now it’s really tempting for me to stop paying attention to my body, to try and vacate before he gets here, and I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Linkara agreed. “Um, I’m going to put a few things out of reach first, though.”

“I’ll wait.” Spoony’s watchful eyes followed Linkara as he tugged off the jacket and hat, folded the jacket in half, and set them on a shelf just out of reach of the futon, along with the scissors. After a moment, Linkara peeled off the plaid shirt and tossed it beside the jacket before sitting on the doubled cushion next to Spoony.

“Not ready to ditch the pants yet?” Spoony asked, grinning even though his shoulders were starting to tremble again.

“Maybe in a little bit,” Linkara said, trying to sound soothing. He combed his fingers through Spoony’s thick, dark hair, pushing it back from his face.

“Thanks,” Spoony sighed, closing his eyes.

Linkara spent a few minutes just exploring Spoony’s neck and shoulders with his fingers, alternating light brushes across the skin and the light fabric of the t-shirt with firmer strokes working the kinks out of tired muscles. Spoony sighed again, wordlessly, and slumped forward, letting the ropes hold him upright as he relaxed into them.

Linkara continued to run his fingers over Spoony’s shoulders, leaning closer and breathing in his friend’s scent, warm and musky, with a hint of airport disinfectant still clinging to him. Spoony leaned his head into the crook of Linkara’s neck and whimpered, once, very quietly.

“It’s okay,” Linkara whispered. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”

“I can’t hold him back much longer,” Spoony whispered back. “Like, I think I’m past the point of no return already. I’ve got maybe a minute.” Muscles that had just begin to relax tensed up again under Linkara’s hands.

“Anything I can do to help?” Linkara asked, the words rushing from his lips before he could consider how inadequate they were. How could the same phrases a store clerk might use with a customer come anywhere near this, with Spoony starting to shake in his arms like a pebble in an earthquake?

Spoony raised his head. “Kiss me?” he asked. It was clearly a question, and probably a request, but nowhere near an order.

Linkara hesitated for a moment. This wasn’t the first time; there had been a scant handful of stolen kisses in the dark and fleeting gropings between them at the Reno hotel, but that had been, at least in Linkara’s mind, all in the heat of battle, first in Critic’s service, and then arrayed against him. What passed between soldiers in the trenches meant everything in that moment, and nothing in the open light and air of peacetime. Still, though, Spoony had asked.

Shifting his weight to lean in to Spoony a little more, Linkara pressed his lips to his and felt Spoony press back, insistent and hungry. Linkara parted his lips just slightly, grazing Spoony’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue; Spoony groaned and returned the gesture.

As Linkara leaned back again, Spoony’s limbs went rigid. “No,” Spoony moaned, “No, no, fuck, not now, not - aigh!” His head dropped nearly to his chest; his hair fell forwards, covering his face again, as he shuddered and flailed against the ropes.

“Spoony?” Linkara unfolded his legs and got off the futon, crouching in front of his friend.

Slowly, the shaggy head came back up, and as the dark locks fell back, a pair of goggles met Linkara’s gaze. A high-pitched giggle was cut short as Spoony - no, Insano - tried to reach for Linkara and discovered his hands were bound.

Linkara stood up straight and stepped back, instinct pushing him towards the magic gun and the rest of his arsenal. He managed to stop himself before he had anything in hand, forcing himself to wait, instead.

Insano tested each bond in turn, twisting in a dozen directions as he tried to find a knot he could reach. His feet strained so hard to reach the floor Linkara started to worry, but the ropes held. After a long minute, Insano leaned back, his head dropping against the futon frame as sweat beaded on his brow. “Oh, well done, Linkara,” he panted.

“Thanks?” Linkara wasn’t exactly sure what Insano was complimenting him for, even if he thought his archenemy might be sincere.

Insano tilted his head forward just enough to look Linkara in the eye. “So, what now?” he asked, the goggles glinting in the light that filtered through the blinds. “What instruments of torture do you have in store for me, now that I’m completely at your questionable mercy?” Insano’s mouth twisted into a predatory grin.

That was nowhere near what Linkara had expected him to say. “What?” he asked.

“You have me tied up and half-clothed,” Insano pointed out as if he were explaining something to a small child. “If you were going to turn me in to the law, either we’d already be at a police station, or you’d have summoned an officer, in which case you wouldn’t have restrained me this . . . _thoroughly_.” Insano’s voice dropped lower on the last word. “Logically, that means you must be planning on taking care of me yourself.”

“Well, yes,” Linkara said, still feeling as if he’d lost control of the situation, despite being the one with the rope.

“Sssooo,” Insano crooned, “how does this begin, this interrogation of your oldest and, shall we say, nearest and dearest enemy?” He leaned forward as far as he could, the rope across his chest pressing a rumpled line into his thin t-shirt, and undoubtably the flesh below it. “How do we start? Something as simple as a slap to the face, perhaps? That would fit your direct, near-brainless style. How hot does the barrel of your energy weapon get when you fire it?”

“It’s a magic gun,” Linkara protested, “not an energy blaster.” He was acutely conscious of his ignorance of the actual answer; it had never occurred to him to check.

“Shall we find out?” Insano purred, as if he’d read Linkara’s thoughts. “A series of near-misses, each closer to my flesh than the last, and then the searing touch of the metal as you demand answers?” He somehow managed to squirm forward another millimeter. “A brand in my flesh, to remind me of who is truly stronger, truly more determined, until the end of my wicked days - assuming, that is, that you let me live at all?”

“You’ve thought this out in much greater detail than I have,” Linkara admitted, trying not to physically recoil in horror at the thought of actually torturing - well, anyone, but especially someone who still wore Spoony’s face.

For a moment, Insano’s tongue lolled out of the corner of his mouth. “ _Every night,_ ” he breathed.

“Oh,” Linkara said, fighting down a moment of panic. Realization flooded in fear’s wake. “ _Oh!_ Look, Insano, if we’re going to be doing this, then it’s not exactly playing fair to jump in without laying the ground rules.” He turned his back on him, over-exaggerating the swing of his shoulder as he did. “After all,” he continued, “I could just decide I’m not interested in playing that game, and leave.”

Insano blew a raspberry at him. “Oh, you’re no fun at all,” he complained, settling back on his haunches. The wrinkle line from the rope remained in his shirt, as if it were clinging to the skin beneath it.

Linkara inhaled and exhaled, one full breath. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they said on the BBC. “Oh, I think this could be _lots_ of fun,” he said lightly. “For both of us. But we have to have some basic understandings between us, and you have to at least pretend that you’re going to respect them.”

Insano seemed to ponder that for a moment, then gave Linkara a lopsided grin. “Well, all right, since you are on the lawful side of the alignment chart, for the sake of a game - a few rules.” He wriggled suggestively in his bonds, and Linkara felt his blood pressure spike. “My safeword is ‘Bueller,’ I don’t have a cooldown word because I’m not a pussy, I’m a slut for power play and impact play, and you can pretty much ignore anything else I say because I lie like a motherfucker when I’m turned on.” The grin got wider. “And let me just say, coming to in such a lovely set of ropes has me very, very turned on.”

“I don’t think I can do much for you on the impact play side,” Linkara observed. “I’d have had to tie you up in a different position for that, and while I could probably find something to cane you with around here, I don’t own a flogger.”

“Another example of your heroic short-sightedness and lack of creativity,” Insano spat, although he was still grinning. “You’ve got at least fifty feet of rope left in that coil by the window. Where do you think sailors got their cats-of-nine-tails to begin with?”

Linkara shrugged; at this point, to pull this off, he was going to have to not let anything Insano said get under his skin. “I’d still have to turn you over,” he answered, trying to sound calm and casual. “Just imagine if I did, though - think of half a dozen knots, coming down on your shoulder blades like that all, at once.”

Insano flinched at that, then giggled maniacally. “Delivered, of course, by your righteous hand, hmm?”

“Of course.” Linkara inched closer. “Of course, I’d really prefer for your punishment to be a little more directly hands-on.”

Insano leered at him. “Do tell,” he purred.

Linkara reached out, running a fingertip up Insano’s throat and along his chin. “I think brats like you deserve a good spanking,” he said, as breezily as he could.

Insano’s cheeks flushed red. “Oh, of course,” he agreed. “I’ve been terribly naughty.”

“I’d love to turn you over my knee and give you the hiding you deserve,” Linkara continued; he could feel his own face blushing in kind. “Just imagine,” he murmured, running the flat of his hand smoothly down the thin fabric over Insano’s chest, “me leaving handprints all over your ass.”

“Mmm,” Insano crooned, “I could imagine it better if this shirt weren’t in the way.” He glanced down at it. “Given that it has neither a logo nor a clever print on it, I can assure you Spoony won’t miss it.”

The reminder that this was Spoony’s body he was playing with at least as much as Insano’s, if not more, nearly jolted Linkara out of his arousal. “Oh, but your arms are all tied up,” he replied, stalling until he got his groove back. “I can’t possibly take it off of you like this.”

“Like I said, meat-for-brains, we’re not going to miss it,” Insano hissed. “Get it off me, you idi-” Insano clamped his jaw shut and shook himself. “I mean, please, Mr. Big Hero-I-Am-A-Man-Punch-Guy, get it off me?”

“Actually decided to roleplay, did you?” Linkara chuckled. “Well, I think I can reward that.” He contemplated reaching for the pair of shears again, but that seemed to lack the requisite sense of drama. Instead, he stood and retrieved the Dragon Dagger from its place of honor on the shelf.

“I may be a snake, but I don’t think you can charm me with that,” Insano teased.

“We’ll see,” Linkara answered, lowering his eyebrows and smiling darkly. “Remember, for all its mystic power, this is still a blade.” He leaned over, planting a hand on Insano’s chest right above the crossing point of the ropes and putting just enough weight on him to hold him still. “And it’s quite sharp. If I were you, I’d try not to move around too much.”

“Of course,” Insano said, goggles focused on the dagger. Linkara slid the blade into one short sleeve and tugged upwards. He wasn’t lying about it being sharp, at least at the tip (less so where the flute mechanism was, of course); the thin cotton fabric parted under the least hint of tension.

“Oooo, yesss!” Insano moaned, squirming under Linkara’s hand as he ripped through another seam.

“Which part of ‘hold still’ did you not understand?” Linkara growled.

“Mmm, I’m doing the best I can,” whined Insano as the blade parted the collar of the shirt. “This is - this is even better than I imagined, and you haven’t even hit me yet.”

Linkara spared a glance down at Insano’s boxers. “Yeah, you’re getting a real kick out of this,” he agreed, as he sliced down the body of the t-shirt and turned his attention to the other sleeve.

“You don’t have to be neat,” Insano bubbled. “Just - I need it off, I need to feel you touch me, _please_!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Linkara shifted the hand pressing Insano into the cushion slightly, and brought the dagger down in a short, sharp arc, splitting the fabric roughly into pieces. Letting his smile get a little wider, he balled up the hand on Insano’s chest and tugged hard; the rest of the shirt gave up the ghost with a satisfying rip. He tossed the tattered rag behind him, carefully set the dagger back in its proper place, and returned to his panting captive. “Now what shall I do with you, hmm?”

“Well,” Insano offered coyly, “it’s not the best angle in the world, but I’d really like you to facefuck me.”

“That’s moving a little fast for me,” Linkara observed, trying to ignore the sudden tightness right below his zipper. “I mean, first,” he ticked off on his fingers, “you’re a dedicated enemy of mine. I’d have to be a fool to stick my junk anywhere near your mouth; why should I trust you not to bite me, and not in the fun way? Second, we haven’t even kissed yet.”

“I promise not to bite,” Insano whined.

“You told me not to believe anything you say while you’re turned on,” Linkara countered.

“Crap, you’re right, I did.” Insano slumped against the ropes; the pair across his chest bit white lines into his flesh. “Too much honesty is never a good policy.”

Linkara nudged Insano’s knees a little farther apart and half-knelt on the edge of the futon cushion between them. “I suppose we could do something about the second, though.”

Immediately, Insano’s lips crashed into his. Linkara turned his head to get a better angle, and immediately Insano’s mouth was sucking, nibbling, slipping across his, all motion and sweet, wet warmth.

He tasted exactly like Spoony had. Nothing else about the kiss was the same, except perhaps a hint of desperation and the desire it stirred in Linkara’s loins.

When Linkara pulled back, he was breathing heavily, almost panting, and Insano was writhing, trying to press more of himself against Linkara and straining against the ankle ropes.

“Please,” Insano wailed. “I want you.”

Linkara looked at his enemy, trembling, sweating, flushed in every pore, and his resolve wavered. “I kind of want to, too,” he admitted, “but I didn’t specifically negotiate that with Spoony.”

“He’s fine with it!” Insano insisted. “Didn’t he say he was fine with whatever you did?”

“Well, yeah,” Linkara argued, “but we were only talking about, you know, the tying up and the touching and all. I was trying to calm him down, and sex isn’t exactly calming.”

Insano screeched in frustration and then went limp.

“Hey!” Linkara backed away. “Are you okay?”

Spoony’s eyes locked onto his as his head came up. “Is - is he gone?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Linkara said. “I mean, you’d know better than I would. I didn’t realize he was leaving.” He settled his hands on Spoony’s shoulders.

“I don’t think so,” Spoony said, shaking his head slightly. “I still feel like he’s about to burst through me, like a dam failing.”

Linkara tried to hug Spoony and ended up pressing Spoony’s forehead to his chest instead. “It’s okay,” he insisted, “he wasn’t able to get out of the ropes.”

“Guessing from the state of my dick,” Spoony chuckled weakly, “they turned him on even more than being tied down is pressing my buttons.”

“Well, at least we’re all on the same page,” Linkara offered. “I had no idea, by the way. When Bennett did it to me, it just made me madder at him.”

“Maybe you have to be on the other end of the knotwork for it to work for you,” Spoony suggested. “Or maybe you and he just don’t have chemistry; it’s funny like that.”

“Or maybe I have a consent fetish,” Linkara mused. Spoony’s head was still against his chest, and the vibrations from his voice were making his nipples harden under his own gray t-shirt.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so totally you, I bet you totally do,” Spoony laughed. “That’s, like, the ultimate white-knight kink, there.” He shifted his head, so his cheek was laying against Linkara’s chest instead of his forehead. “I guess I should consent harder, huh?” he said quietly; his breath was warm, ghosting across Linkara’s stomach.

“I think ‘more specifically’ might work better than ‘harder’,” Linkara said, consciously passing up the obvious pun; their mutual erections were clear enough at this point. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll decide whether I’m up for it.” Another missed joke opportunity; he was going to have enough for a video by the end of this, one no one would ever get to see.

Spoony tensed slightly; the back rail of the futon creaked as he pulled one of the elbow ropes taut. “I think I want to blow you,” he whispered into the folds of Linkara’s shirt.

“You _think_?” Linkara shifted so he could see Spoony’s face. “I’m not sure that’s good enough to titillate a consent kink,” he teased.

Spoony shivered, took a deep breath, and looked up directly into Linkara’s eyes. “I want to give you head,” Spoony said, still softly but firmly. “I want to taste your paladin-pure cock. I want to suck you and feel you get harder than you’ve ever been in your life, right on my tongue. I want your jizz all over my face, okay? I. Want. To. Blow. You.”

It took Linkara a moment to get his breath back to respond. “Well, if you’re sure about it,” he replied, shrugging and stepping back to undo his fly.

“Can you take off the shirt, too?” Spoony said as Linkara stepped out of his jeans and briefs.

Linkara hooked his thumb into the fabric, then hesitated. He was fine being naked with Spoony; was he okay with potentially being naked in front of Insano?

Spoony moaned, high and light and yearning. Linkara yanked off his shirt and contemplated the logistical problem in front of him. “I think,” he said, “I’m going to have to stand on the futon cushion, sort of straddling you, and lean against the wall for this to work.”

“Too bad you don’t have the wall shelf there from your old place,” Spoony observed. “You could hold onto it for balance.”

“It wasn’t that stable; I’d probably knock it down on both of us.” Linkara clambered up onto the futon and levered himself up to a standing position. “Is this going to work? I don’t want to strain your neck.”

Spoony nuzzled the skin where Linkara’s hip met his thigh. “I think so?” he answered. “I guess we’ll have to find out.” Slowly, he mouthed at the tip of Linkara’s erection, letting his lips engulf it at a leisurely pace.

Linkara stifled a groan. Spoony’s mouth was warm, and wet, and he could suck like a vacuum; Linkara hadn’t quite realized how literal Spoony’s comment about getting him harder than he’d ever been was going to be. He braced himself against the wall, trying not to lock his knees as the things Spoony was doing with his lips sent thunderous jolts of pleasure up his spine.

“Oh, yeah,” Linkara groaned as Spoony’s head bobbed, “that’s perfect.” Spoony made a soft sound somewhere between a moan and a purr; the vibrations made Linkara shiver. Dear God, Spoony was swallowing him nearly to the root; the tip of that stately nose brushed against his fuzz, warm breath and the gentle tickle adding to the overwhelming sensations.

Then suddenly there was a lot less suction and a lot more tongue; the sensations changed from thunder to lightning, sharp and specific instead of engulfing. Linkara looked down into a pair of goggles and a wicked smirk.

“I said he wouldn’t mind, didn’t I?” Insano said smugly, drawing back just enough to speak. “The flesh wants what it wants.”

Linkara grunted, “And what I want is for you to shut up and get back to sucking.”

Instead, Insano continued to stare up at him, sticking out his tongue and running it conspicuously up and down Linkara’s length without closing his mouth. Every few moments he would gently nip at one of the more sensitive spots with just his lips, miming biting without teeth.

“All right,” Linkara growled, “you’ve proved your point. And that feels fantastic, but it’s not going to get me off.”

Insano trailed his tongue in one long, flat lick up the underside of Linkara’s shaft, then leaned back as far as he could, mouth open. “You want it?” he cackled. “Come get it!”

Linkara reached down and smacked Insano’s cheek with his dick. “Quit fooling around,” he grumbled.

“Fooling around is exactly what we both had in mind,” Insano said breathlessly. “I want you to facefuck me, like I said earlier. Or does the Big Damn Hero not know what that means?” The dick-slap seemed to have brought far more blood rushing to his face than a tap like that should have.

“Of course I know what it means,” Linkara said, shifting his weight so he could bury one hand in Insano’s tangled hair. “Quit talking and open wide.”

“Mmph!” Whatever Insano had intended to say, it was muffled by Linkara’s cock; he didn’t seem to mind, redoubling the efforts of his tongue and letting Linkara be in charge of the thrusting.

Linkara was in no hurry; he spent a few long minutes moving slowly, savoring the feel of that talented tongue dancing along him. Again, the warmth and the scent were exactly the same, but where Spoony had been working some arcane deep magic with his lips and soft palate, Insano was wildly experimenting with his tongue and the pressure of his jaw, refining his results on the fly while letting Linkara use depth as his own control variable. Insano also seemed to be even better at suppressing his gag reflex; Linkara was all but buried in his throat, and he still seemed eager for more.

“Getting close,” Linkara murmured.

Insano made a keening noise and _finally_ started sucking, hard and rough.

Linkara had intended to pull out, but the sudden change in sensation short-circuited something at the base of his spine, and the building orgasm hit him like a spring that’s wound too tight and suddenly snapped. He barely had time to brace himself; he grabbed onto the wall and Insano’s hair reflexively, shouting incoherently as the muscles of Insano’s throat milked him to the last drop.

The room swam back into focus, and Linkara stumbled off the futon, managing not to fall over more by luck than skill. There were flecks of white paint under the fingernails of his left hand, and a few stray dark hairs stuck to the palm of his right. Insano snickered at him, then leaned forward, coughing sharply.

Spoony flipped his hair back. “Augh, ugh, which part of ‘on my face’ did you not understand?”

“I was trying not to do that,” Linkara wailed defensively. “Insano wouldn’t let go!”

“Oh, figures he’d be a jizz-guzzling cumslut,” Spoony huffed. “Asshole.”

“I’m sorry!” Linkara insisted. “Here, I think I have an unopened bottle of water behind the camera case.” He twisted off the cap and held it to Spoony’s lips.

Spoony took several swallows. “Not your fault,” he said, clearing his throat. “That’s fine, thanks. I didn’t say not to; I’m not mad at you.”

“No, but you did sort of leave instructions,” Linkara sighed. “I just - I wasn’t ready for him.” For all that the orgasm had nearly knocked him over, he was still at half-mast; Spoony looking at him with slightly swollen lips, reddened cheeks, and eyes dark as a storm wasn’t calming him down, either.

Spoony glanced aside. “Mostly I’m pissed at him because I wanted to watch you come,” he mumbled.

Linkara glanced down at himself. “You might still have a shot, anyway,” he admitted.

“Man, I miss being that young,” Spoony said wryly.

Linkara decided not to argue about their relative ages vis-a-vis their respective refractive periods and just kissed him again. Those lips were irresistible, especially after what they’d just done. Spoony seemed content to lean into the kiss; a trickle of sweat ran down his face and dripped from his jaw onto Linkara’s arm.

Linkara reached between them and undid the button on Spoony’s boxers. “How are you doing?” he asked in the space between mad explorations of Spoony’s mouth with his tongue.

“I can still feel him,” Spoony admitted, “and it still scares me.” He rolled Linkara’s bottom lip gently between his teeth. “But not nearly as much as before.”

Linkara closed his hand on Spoony’s erection. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

Spoony leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “You’re aware that I let you fucking tie me to your futon, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Linkara answered, stroking him slowly, “but do you _trust_ me?”

Spoony stared at him, open-mouthed, for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, Linkara. I trust you.”

“Then just relax,” Linkara said, leaning in to rest his head on Spoony’s shoulder. He shifted so one knee was on the futon and one foot on the floor, supporting half his weight and letting the rest pin Spoony to the futon. “Relax, and let me touch you.”

Spoony exhaled into Linkara’s hair, long and slow. His shoulders tensed and released. “Okay,” he whispered.

Still stroking Spoony’s erection slowly with one hand, Linkara let the other one play across his friend’s skin, tracing small circles on the insides of his thighs, grazing his nipples, brushing the subtle curves of his belly. Spoony’s breathing got deeper; he moaned slightly on each stroke.

Carefully, Linkara got just a bit rougher, letting his nails trail against the exposed skin on the ribs, tweaking a nipple, nipping at a shoulder with his teeth. “Oh, yes,” gasped Insano’s higher voice.

Linkara eased off, moving gently. “That’s great,” Spoony groaned. “Keep it up.”

Now for the difficult part. Linkara tightened his grip on the cock in his hand, while still petting softly and gently with the other hand. A tremor rolled through the body beneath him, and two voices moaned wordlessly, high and low.

Linkara switched hands, slow and smooth on the cock, rougher against the thighs. Spoony said “More;” Insano hissed “Harder!”

Somehow they’d both spoken at the same time.

Linkara leaned in and kissed them, probing, nipping, pressing in, while letting both his hands move in soft, gentle caresses. Apparently only one of them could kiss back at a time; Insano nipped back, twining his tongue around Linkara’s, and then was interrupted by Spoony, slipping his lips across Linkara’s like silk.

“I really want to have sex with you,” Linkara whispered into their mouth.

Watching them talk was a little mindbending, as was picking out what each voice said, since they were still both speaking at once. Insano had said “What, you’ve shot your wad down our throat and you still can’t say ‘fuck’?” Spoony had been less clear, but it had been something close to “What the fuck do you think we’re doing?”

“Be glad I didn’t use some soppy euphemism just to torture you, and okay, you got me there.” Linkara wished briefly that he hadn’t tied their elbows so close together and their ankles so far apart. He was hard again, but this position wasn’t going to be easy for him to maneuver around.

“Seriously,” Spoony continued on his own, “oral may not be fucking, but it’s still sex.” His eyelids fluttered closed as Linkara shifted his grip on their erection, and both of them whimpered in the back of their throat, two notes in a simple chord.

“How do you feel about frottage?” Linkara asked, leaning on him a little harder and lightening up with both hands.

Insano said “Very positively, at least at the moment,” while Spoony stuttered “F-f-fuck yeah!”

“Good,” Linkara replied, and climbed into their lap, scooting them forward slightly so he could wrap his legs around them. It was a bit of a squeeze, but not too uncomfortable, and now they were chest-to-chest and dick-to-dick. Linkara opened his grip to accommodate both erections, speeding up the pace a bit.

His friend and his enemy shuddered, slightly out of sync with each other. Linkara clutched Spoony tight to his chest and nibbled at Insano’s ear, and was rewarded with a guttural moan from the first and a high, breathy gasp from the other. He ground against them, trying not to push too hard - he wasn’t as sure where their hands were as he’d like, and he didn’t want to accidentally put pressure on the wrong nerves.

And then they were grinding back, slow, firm rolls of their hips against his, their back arching as they thrust against him. How they were getting the leverage, he wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t about to question it; he matched their rhythm and held on, held tight to both of them, held tight to that miraculous body that held two such disparate souls -

That body that trembled and strained at the ropes, flesh red and white against the restraints, so beautiful, dark hair and dark lashes and nerves open and waiting -

Two voices, one murmuring “fuck, fuck me, fuck me, god, fuck,” over and over, the other alternating between shrill, high gasping and “more, more, hurt me just a little, it’s fine, for science!, harder” -

“You’re beautiful,” Linkara whispered, and shut up both voices for a moment with his lips against theirs. He slipped one hand into the rope around their chest and twisted it just a bit, just enough to tighten it -

The voices converged, melded: “fuck, harder, god, yes yes YES, Linkara, _YES_ ” -

And they were shaking, shouting, there was warm wetness spurting, and Linkara could feel their dick throbbing in his hand, and he couldn’t help following them, spurting with them in syncopation as he came with them.

For a moment, the goggles reappeared. “Don’t think this makes us friends,” Insano murmured unsteadily.

“Nope,” Linkara replied, trying to scrape the brain cells together to say something witty. All he could come up with was, “Just lovers.”

“Spoony’s luggage is in the security station at Concourse B of the airport,” Insano blurted. “I may have spilled some chemicals on it that set off the sniffer. By now, though, they should have broken down into anhydrous magnesium chloride and some trace salts, so the security drones should think it was just a false positive.” He kissed Linkara with a tenderness that seemed out of character, and whispered, “Next time, then.” The body in Linkara’s arms went completely limp, like a flag on a windless day.

Linkara waited a few seconds, listening to Spoony’s breathing, before asking, “Are you okay?”

“He’s finally gone,” Spoony murmured in relief. “I mean, not gone-forever gone, but I think this episode is over.” He shifted his head against Linkara’s shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” Linkara said. “Um, let me clean you up. Actually, let me untie you first, and then you can clean yourself up, if you’re up to it.”

“I’m still pretty subspacy,” Spoony admitted. “Nothing’s hurting yet, but that could just be the endorphins getting in the way of any other signals.”

“Yeah, and your hands are still warm, so I’m not worried yet, but you guys were pushing the knots pretty hard and they’ve probably tightened up,” Linkara explained.

Spoony opened one eye and smirked at him as Linkara pulled the quick-release knots behind the futon slats. “Just out of curiosity,” he asked, “was that your first threesome?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I said it wasn’t,” Linkara answered, picking open the knots on the elbow and chest ties. “As a matter of fact, I bet I could tell you that was the first time anyone ever gave me head, and you’d believe me.” He smiled innocently.

“Nah, even you aren’t that pure,” Spoony said dismissively, but he looked less sure than he sounded.

“Probably not,” Linkara agreed. “After all, some of these aren’t your standard boy scout knots.” He loosely coiled the sections of rope that had held Spoony’s upper body. “Shake out your hands and get some blood flowing again.”

Spoony did as he was instructed; pale skin flushed pink with renewed circulation. “Did I hear that bastard tell you where my suitcase went?” he asked.

“Yup,” Linkara replied. “Hold still, your ankles are going to take a minute.”

“We’d better go get it,” Spoony said, yawning. “My shorts are a mess of sweat and cum, and my shirt appears to be in three or four pieces.”

“I’ll go pick it up,” Linkara assured him. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere right now. Speaking of the shirt, here, clean yourself off.” He set the largest shred of the t-shirt next to Spoony’s hand, looped the ankle ropes around each other, and set them aside. “You know, I figured your skin would take rope marks pretty well, but you’re a whole canvas of red lines right now.”

“Eh, I don’t think they’ll bruise,” Spoony said, wiping the mixed fluids from his stomach with slightly shaking hands. “Although, like I said, I’m still a little subspacy, so I might not be the best guy to judge.”

Linkara admired his handiwork. “They’re gorgeous,” he murmured. “You’re gorgeous.” He resisted the urge to run his fingers over the rope marks; making them last longer might just delay any chance he had to decorate that pale skin with another, better-planned set.

Spoony snorted. “You must still be dom-spacy, then, too,” he mumbled as he stretched his legs and then curled up on his side on the futon.

“Maybe a little?” Linkara shrugged. “Mostly I just feel like I’ve come twice. Which, y’know, seems like a reasonable way to feel under the circumstances.” He sat down next to Spoony, perching on the end of the futon. “How do you feel?”

“Better, way better, but I’m really fucking exhausted,” Spoony admitted. “I don’t think I’ve actually slept in two or three days; I was terrified he’d break through as soon as I let my guard down.”

“Then you need a nap while your arms and legs recover,” Linkara said quietly. “Let me get you a blanket and a pillow, and I’ll call the airport and see what we can do about your suitcase.”

“I think I dropped the claim ticket in your foyer,” Spoony mumbled. “Can I have the rest of that bottle of water?”

Linkara handed him the water and headed back to the den. Sure enough, there on the floor was the paper packet that had once held a boarding pass, folded and wadded into an unrecognizable mess, and it still had the baggage claim slip stapled to it. He set it on the kitchen counter and collected the throw blanket and a floor pillow from the sofa.

He ducked back into the study. The water bottle was on its side on the floor, empty, and Spoony was lying full-length on his stomach. Linkara carefully spread the blanket over him and tucked the pillow under his head.

“Just a few minutes, and I’ll be fine,” Spoony mumbled into the pillow.

Linkara hesitated, then bent over and pressed a quick kiss to Spoony’s temple. “Take as long as you need,” he murmured, then gathered his pants from the floor and switched out the light.

They might not take much stock in souls, but he did. Linkara pondered the situation as he padded down the hallway. Surely he could do something for them, although he wasn’t sure what.

Both of them? Not just Spoony? Surely he didn’t owe Insano anything? He thought for a moment of that strange dual voice, and remembered them both calling his name.

He could feel his dick contemplating getting hard for the third time in a hour.

Linkara wasn’t used to feelings being this complicated. He stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water would clear his head.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt requested the _Kickassia_ relationship between Spoony and Insano, one that I'm pretty sure is no longer possible in the main Spoony Experiment continuity post- _Clones of Bruce Lee_. Fortunately, not only is there no continuity, only Insano, the good doctor himself has pointed out that was all a result of the Plot Hole, so I gladly fall back on that as the explanation for this sequence of events as well.
> 
> I am also aware that technically by the At4W timeline Iron Liz should be around, but this would then be a very different story (and, again, not match the prompt), so again I plead Plot Hole.


End file.
